


In the Midst of This

by lady_illiya



Series: axgweek 2013 [5]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-10
Updated: 2013-08-10
Packaged: 2017-12-23 00:10:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/919678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lady_illiya/pseuds/lady_illiya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three times Gendry finds Arya beautiful in an unconventional settling. For axgweek 2013 Day 5: Beauty.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the Midst of This

**Author's Note:**

> I got three awesome prompts on tumblr for Day 5, Beauty for Arya x Gendry Week. So instead of picking just one I wrote a little drabble for all three! Hope you guys like it!
> 
> 1\. furiouswinter answered: I decided not to write anything for this prompt, but I considered contrasting something beautiful happening in an ugly place like Harrenhal.
> 
> 2\. quierosernauha answered: Jon and Gendry talking about Arya, Gendry explaining that Arya’s scars and fierceness is what makes her beautifull (instead of eyes and blah
> 
> 3\. obsessivereaderandwriter answered: Maybe something where Gendry’s thinking about Arya, and how she’s beautiful in her own way, without having to be all fancy and made up?

1\. He didn’t have it so bad here, not really. He kept his head down and did his work and he got along well enough, blacksmiths were hard to come by, after all.

So he knew he really shouldn’t hate Harrenhal, given that he could have had it so much worse, base-born as he was. But it couldn’t be helped; Flee Bottom wasn’t even as bad as this, this terrible, depressing place.

The servants were no better then prisoners here, the knights were brutal, and the castle itself loomed over them. It was almost always dark here, and the wind blew screams through the night, and with it came the smell of death and decay.

So when he found himself with Arya -Weasel now- one morning so early they caught the sun rising he was so stunned by what he saw and the beauty that came with it. They were perched near the forge, and as the sun came swimming over the horizon some of it broke through and the rays hit the area they were in. He turned to look at Arya and froze in amazement at seeing her stooping low to the ground, hand reached out in reverence toward the bottom of a barrel. He followed her hand with his eyes to find a small flower sprouting from the dirt there.

She turned to look at him and she had a small smile on her face, something he rarely saw on her, and he couldn’t believe that in the midst of a place like this, there was still some beauty to be found in the world.

 

2\. It had taken Arya a long time to feel comfortable like this with him. She wasn’t exactly shy, but she was ashamed, ashamed of her past, of it being so visible on her skin.

When she first started coming to him like this, it was at night, always when it was dark. She would snuff the candles and climb on top of him, pulling at their clothes until they could tumble together and just _feel_.

He could barely see her then, but when his fingers trailed across her skin he could feel the raised edges of her scars. The second his fingers would begin to trace one she would flinch away, but over time, she grew more comfortable with him, grew to lean into his soft touches. And when the candlelight sent shadows spiraling over her body as she rode him, and the scars stood out angrily in sharp contrast to her smooth skin, all he could think was how beautiful she was, just like this.

 

3\. She was called many things, in her youth they were names to hide her, now they were names to cause fear. The Lost Wolf, she was uncontrolled, she fought with the men and destroyed her enemies.

They never called her a beauty, not even ironically as they did Brianne of Tarth, she had killed for less. She wore trousers under her armor, ate and drank with the men, they don’t think of her as a Lady, not since the first time they saw her fight.  

The men whisper into their cups about them though, the She-Wolf and the Bull. They are always together, he follows behind her in silence; sleep in the same tent at night. How could a great warrior such as he be with the demon that rides a direwolf into battle? He should have no trouble getting a pretty little lady, what’s he doing with one that’s basically a man?

He didn’t see her that way though. She was never meant to be the lady, the one who dresses fancy and smiles cutely at knights in shining armor. He wouldn’t want her if she was.

And when she sliced through Frey’s and Lannister alike, blood coating her breastplate, making the wolf there look as if it was doing the killing, he thought she was beautiful. Her eyes were bright with energy and justice, her voice singing out in laughter as Nymeria killed alongside her master.

When they were in the heat of battle like this, she would turn to look at him, sword dripping and it was like they were alone, she was all he could see, and she looked amazing.


End file.
